Arthur Conan Doyle Quotes
The Torrent, Swollen By The Melting Snow, Plunges Into A Tremendous Abyss, From Which The Spray Rolls Up Like The Smoke From A Burning House. The Shaft Into Which The River Hurls Itself Is An Immense Chasm, Lined By Glistening Coal-black Rock, And Narrowing Into A Creaming, Boiling Pit Of Incalculable Depth, Which Brims Over And Shoots The Stream Onward Over Its Jagged Lip. The Long Sweep Of Green Water Roaring Forever Down, And The Thick Flickering Curtain Of Spray Hissing Forever Upward, Turn A Man Giddy With Their Constant Whirl And Clamor.
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